To give and take
by Inyoface
Summary: It's Maxie's first Christmas to spend with his Mom and her new Boyfriend in an equally new, unfamiliar country. Fed up with it all, he tries to reach his Dad but instead dials the number of Kai, an eccentric French teenager. Yaoi Kai/Max


To give and take

**Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade.**

**A/N: This is my very own little contribution to Christmas time. Although it's not that Christmas-ey. It's a bit …different. I hope you still enjoy it.**

**Summary: Max is preparing to celebrate the most awkward Christmas of his life. It involves his mother, stepfather and an entirely new country. Fed up with it all, he decides to make a phone call, but accidentally gets a stranger on the other line. And this stranger might soon become more familiar. Romance. Kai/Max**

**xxx – xxx – xxx – xxx **

My name is Max Tate, I'm fifteen years old, my favourite food is clam chowder soup and I'm from Scranton, Carolina. My parents just got divorced, it was very upsetting. My mother had found a new guy. His name is Ralph, and he insists I call him Daddy, which I don't. He's got greying hair, a big nose and he makes us say a grace at the dinner table. Mom and I never did that before. It feels strange to suddenly do it. Oh, and he's got a son, Michael. Michael is very loud; he likes to hear the sound of his own voice, so he talks much. I don't think he likes me a whole lot. He always calls me a pansy, just because I don't play any sports at school. It's all very awkward. We moved recently. Because of Ralph's work. To this town called Orléans. Orléans, France. I wish it were New Orleans, Louisiana. It wouldn't be that strange, or awkward. Not to say that French people are awkward, I like them, actually. The one's I met so far were very kind; it's just the whole situation that is awkward. My French is awkward too. I'm not all that talented with languages.

Anyways, it was the night before Christmas. The first Christmas with Ralph and Michael. Mom had agreed to celebrate everything the way they were used to it, which I found very upsetting. Michael didn't care much for Christmas. I did. And the way we had celebrated it so far it had lost all its magic. It was as if all of our dear traditions had been thrown out of the window. Instead we did things like watch Star Trek (apparently a tradition), eat steak (apparently a tradition) and had caramel pudding for dessert, instead of my all time favourite: mince pies. With Christmas Eve being a disaster in my opinion, I was getting worried, how would the next morning be? I couldn't sleep the night before Christmas. It was 1:30 am and I just didn't manage. Normally I would go to bet at around 11 and be dead tired. I guess the sadness just kept me up. I wanted my old Christmas back. With Mommy and Daddy together, and the Turkey and the sweet potatoes, and the 'Grinch' (I loved that movie; it was my favourite ever since I was little). I crammed around in my cupboard, searching for my little address book. So far I had only unpacked one box, but my address book I had kept with me for the entirety. Ever since we boarded the plane three weeks ago. It contained my currently dearest treasure: my Dad's phone number. I hadn't used it yet, Daddy always called me and I wasn't normally such a cry baby, but that night, I felt like it. I snuck down to the basement and dialled the number.

'Hrmph.' It said on the other end of the line.

Not a very kind greeting but I didn't care.

'Daddy it's me, Maxie, I missed you.'

'Wrong number.' the person on the other end grumbled. His voice was cold and angry.

'Oh sorry.' I muttered, but the guy had already hung up.

I shrugged and re-dialled.

'_Allô_?'

'Hey, it's Max.'

'Are you retarded, this is the wrong number.' the person hissed.

It was the same guy as before and again, he hung up before I had a chance to apologize. Slightly discouraged and embarrassed, I tried again, this time double checking the number before pressing the call button.

'Idiot!'

It was the guy again.

'I'm really sorry.' I told him, this time he stayed on for longer, unfortunately long enough to hear my sobbing. It was me who hung up that time. I put the phone to my chest and cried a bit. I felt so alone. Mom was with that idiot Ralph and whenever I tried to call Daddy, all I got was that rude French guy. Suddenly the phone rang. It made me flinch. I wiped my tears away and pressed the answer button.

'Hello.'

'Hey, Max isn't it?'

'Yes.'

It was the guy I had been calling. I could tell by the voice.

'Listen Max, I'm sorry. Are you okay and stuff... that call you were trying to make, to your Dad, was it important?'

It was so strange, moments before he had been in rage and now he was all apologetic.

I sniffed. 'It's okay, I was just very upset about something.'

'Upset? You were angry?'

'No, no. Sad.' I explained.

'_Ah oui_! Maybe I can help you call your Dad. I am in Orléans in France. Are you in America?'

He spoke in a heavy accent, but his voice still sounded very kind and soothening to my ears.

'No, I'm calling from Orléans too.'

'_D'accord, d'accord. _Is your Dad in Orléans as well?'

'No, he's in America.' I informed him.

There was a break on the other end, as if he were thinking. Then I heard him mumble something.

'Did you dial ... _comment vous-dites?..._ Number, for country.'

Then I felt like a true idiot. Country Code. I forgot the Country Code. How could I be so stupid?

'No, I didn't.' I confessed.

'_Ah, bon_! Do you know the country number?'

Once again, I felt really stupid when I told him I didn't. But he was nice about it; he even looked it up on the internet for me. I thanked him excessively for everything and then tried it. It didn't work out at first, then I realised I didn't even have an area code. Fortunately I did remember that one from having lived in that area for years. It worked this time. I got all excited when I heard it toot. And I got all depressed when the answering machine went off. All that effort, for nothing. Damn, why wasn't he home? What other plans did he have on Christmas Eve? I sighed, I decided to call the French guy again I felt he deserved to know how it all had come to end.

'Did it not work?'

He always got straight to business I realised; he didn't even spare time for a 'hello'.

'It did.' I informed him. 'But he wasn't there.'

'Oh, that sucks.'

I had to smirk at his use of slang words. It just seemed so odd. It made me wonder what he was like, he sounded young enough to be a teen. He probably wasn't whiny, immature and slightly ditzy at times, like me. I imagined him to be all organised and smart, getting good grades at school. He laughed as I expressed this.

'I'm seventeen.' he told me. 'And I don't go to school.'

'Did you graduate already?' I asked.

'_Non, non. _I did not like school. I work. I'm a _contrôleur_, in the metro.'

So he was one of those train conductor guys that nobody liked. But he didn't get offended when I commented on it. He confessed to me that he himself had never bought a metro ticket in his life and I had a good laugh about it. We chatted for a while It was strange, but in a good way. It was like we 'clicked', the conversation came easily, even though it was me who did most of the talking. Talking to him was so different to talking to Michael. And strangely, it was me who suggested we should meet. We had been on the phone for two hours already, I felt I needed a face to go with the voice.

'Now?' he asked dumbfounded.

I had actually intended a different time, maybe some time during the following week, but why the hell not? I have been called naive at times, and sometimes I even find it quite accurate. I'm sure this would give rise to another fitting occasion, but it just felt right to meet with this stranger. I didn't quite understand it myself.

He agreed to it. '_D'accord_.' he said. 'My place or your place?'

'Your place.' I insisted. I hated the house I lived in greatly, and the people even more.

Being a conductor, he knew the metro system fairly well, and he described the exact route that I should take to me. It wasn't until I stepped outside into the dark, that I lost my cool. For a second I tried to go back to the house, but the front door had snapped closed behind me, and I hadn't brought a key. There's no turning back now, I told myself, and started walking. The dark alleys, that so recently had become my new home, glared back at me in an ominous manner. But it was futile for their sake. I had never been afraid of the dark, and I wasn't that time either. I knew the way to the metro very well, I'd walked it multiple times, just to get away from everyone at the house. Sometimes I ended up taking the metro, sometimes I didn't. Sometimes I would just sit on the bench and watch the wagons rush past me. I started to wonder, if I might have even met my stranger before. If yes, I probably hadn't noticed him, I always spaced out when I was riding the metro. I was like that. Ever since we'd moved here, I had been building castles in the clouds, dreaming of better times. Less awkward times.

I almost missed my train.

I jumped inside just as the doors were closing.

Have you ever noticed how the world seems like a different place when it's dark? It's like two exist. The night world and the day world. I've always liked the nightly one more. It's a lot quieter, a lot less people. Depending on where you go it's safer. Or more dangerous. It has this air of mystery surrounding it. It's quite beautiful. I wish I could live in that world. I should become a night guard or something like that. Of course Mom would never approve of that. She wants me to go to University. To Boston preferably. That's where she went. To study engineering preferably. That's what she did. Parents always seem to want their children to turn out like they did. I guess it would give them a sense of security. Same old, same old. Most people don't like change. I'm one of them. I greatly loathe it. I feel sorry for my future children, that is, if I ever will have some anyways. I'm not sure if I will. It's not like I dislike them, I just don't strongly wish for some. I guess I would be good without.

The metro rolled into _'Place de l'Étas-Unis'_. My station. I got off. There were only two people waiting at the track, a man and a woman. They weren't talking or anything. Why should they? They each had their own business. I glared at the man. He was tall, dressed in a long, dark coat, with a thin, silky scarf around his neck. He wore a hunting hat, with the flaps down. I figured he was my stranger.

'Are you Max?' he asked.

I nodded.

He noted me to follow him. I did.

'Curtsey of my father.' he said, pointing at the hat. 'It's silly. I've never been hunting, neither has he. Still, he looked so proud when he handed it to me for Christmas. Almost like a little child. Now I'm wearing it to please him. Returning the favour from ten years ago. The roles have reversed, or so it seems at least.'

I nodded. His English seemed almost flawless now. Maybe he had been tired earlier. Or maybe he had revised that sentence in his head.

'I feel like Holden.' he added. 'From "The catcher in the Rye", you know. I have an urge to say "phony" all the time.'

I smiled.

We continued walking until we reached a large apartment block. We took the elevator up and he let me into a small apartment. It was sparsely decorated, only very few photographs. The most valuable property appeared to be an array of fancy wine, lined up, sorted by age, placed on top of an ebony table.

'Are you alone?' I asked.

'My parents are staying the night at my uncles house.' he answered.

'Do you have any siblings?' I asked.

'No.' he answered.

'What is your name?' I asked.

'Kai.' he answered.

That's where our little question game ended. I sat down on the sofa, looking around the apartment. Even though it was a stranger's home, it felt oddly comfortable. Not awkward, like the house I now lived in.

'Kai is not a very common name.' I noted.

'Max is.' he replied.

It wasn't like we were criticising each other, or taking offence. It was more of an observance act. We were lingering around, just staring at each other for a while. Then at some point I leaned back and looked up at the ceiling.

'Sometimes I wish I had curly hair, that way I wouldn't have to brush it that often. Then my mother wouldn't complain that much anymore.'

We just burst out saying random things. Without any real context. It was late after all. And after half an hour, it felt as if we knew each other very well. And not our background, or heritage, rather our manners and habits. It was nice.

'You are kinda dim.' he said after exactly thirty-one minutes. 'That's good, smart people piss me off after a while. That's why I didn't like school. Too many wiseass people.'

It would have been an insult under normal circumstances, but in that moment it was a very dear compliment. Usually being called stupid would have upset me, but coming from him it felt good. For a little while it let me diminish all my worries on social expectations, and just be there... in space... existing.

Then his hand touched mine, and it felt right. It all did. Not just the kiss that came right after, also the acts following it. Including the ones in the bedroom. And waking up in the morning. They were luscious, lusty acts. Ones to be ashamed of. For at my age especially, being only fifteen. I had never been very mature for my age either. But it didn't matter. It had happened, neither of us regretted it. And as I was lying next to him in bed, my arm occasionally strifing his naked torso, he turned his head towards me and whispered the following words:

'Maxie, has this been your best Christmas?'

'No.' I replied. 'When I was little, six years old maybe, my parents bought me a Lego Star Wars set. Luke's X-Wing. I had wanted it for months.'

He leaned over me, his lips hovering millimetres above mine. I could feel his hot breath tingle mine every time he spoke a word.

'My favourite was when I was eight. I got a _pistolet à eau_, a water gun.'

He kissed me as soon as he said those words. It was a soft, mushy feeling; it made my stomach area tickle. His lips brushed so gently against mine. So nice. And not at all awkward.

**xxx – xxx – xxx – xxx – xxx**

**A/N: So how was it? What did you think of this oneshot? Leave me your opinion in a review!**

**Oh and more importantly: MERRY CHRISTMAS **

**xxx – xxx – xxx**

**Translations: **

**D'accord – okay**

**Étas-Unis – United States (of America) **

**Comment vous dites – how do you say**

**Allô - Hello**


End file.
